


The Flower that Bloomed in Adversity

by scout (scout_eki)



Series: Dreamnoblade One Shots [9]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fighting, Gladiators, M/M, Minor Violence, Overthrowing the government, POV Outsider, Sword Fighting, lovers in arms, never specifies who "he" is, nothing too descriptive, overthrowing the king, the narrator is just "he", uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scout_eki/pseuds/scout
Summary: An outroar sounded through the arena, shouts of surprise from onlookers as the arrow entered the king’s shoulder. A loud cry of pain from the struck man covered the sounds of sprinting footsteps, masking the noise of door guards hitting the floor.By the time the men of the council noticed the unconscious guards, the two were long gone, away from the world of nonstop fighting.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Dreamnoblade One Shots [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991563
Comments: 49
Kudos: 853





	The Flower that Bloomed in Adversity

**Author's Note:**

> hello :) yeah I'm back, again
> 
> this is very similar to another fic of mine, which is just platonic dream & techno, so if you enjoy this one, you could always check out that one !!
> 
> WARNING // minor descriptions of violence but it's nothing too in depth

An outroar sounded through the arena, shouts of surprise from onlookers as the arrow entered the king’s shoulder. A loud cry of pain from the struck man covered the sounds of sprinting footsteps, masking the noise of door guards hitting the floor. 

By the time the men of the council noticed the unconscious guards, the two were long gone, away from the world of nonstop fighting. 

-

He remembers the day  _ The Blade  _ was introduced to the arena. 

The day wasn’t unusual at first, the same routine followed throughout the barracks surrounding the arena’s middle. The exact same routine they always followed: wake up, eat a high protein, disgusting meal, get your shit kicked in in the arena, and then go to sleep sore. They had no time for variety. 

He was in the middle of swallowing a revolting bite when the unmistakable sound of chains dragging echoed through the halls leading to the cafeteria. He assumed they must be getting a new recruit, a new person simply here to entertain the crowd until they die. He, along with the rest of his competitors, looked up at the entrance when the sound suddenly stopped, being greeted with the view of a man wearing noble’s clothing standing with a blank look on his face.

He could hear a couple people snickering, no doubt finding amusement in the light pink hair on the man’s head. When the man shot his face up to look at the opposing men, the whole room gazed in awe at the red eyes blazing with fury. If looks could kill, which technically they can because one glare from a man outside of the arena meant you were going to eat shit when you two were placed in there together, the six men receiving that gaze wouldn’t make it to another day.

The pink haired man was brought to a table, the one nobody used anymore due to the knife slashes on the sides, where a plate was placed in front of him. The entire room watched as he ate the meal without complaint, that blank look still on his face. The rest of the men whispered amongst themselves, placing bets of bread pieces on if the new contender would win his first fight or not.

Many people lost the night he was first entered into the ring. He was put up against  _ Spinster  _ his first round, who boasted about how he’s going to “go easy on the newbie, don’t want to kill him on the first day.” Judging by the now unoccupied bed, he didn't have anything to worry about. The noble clothed man practically soared through the sky, landing kicks and punches that shouldn’t have worked. He made it through five guys that night with barely a scratch on his cheek, pure unfiltered power radiating through him. 

The tension was suffocating in the barracks that night, people keeping their distance from the pink haired man who seemed unbothered by the silence. This was typically when they would actively calm down, their small slot in time where they could relax before they hit the hay. However, it wasn’t the same when the knowledge that one man in the room was responsible for one death and many other injuries. 

He wasn’t too bothered by the silence, especially since he was practically drowning in the pieces of bread he managed to win. Did they really underestimate this man that much? He was the only one in the room who bet that he would win, and his intuitions allowed him to actually have a full stomach for once.

The council ended up introducing weapons into the competitions. Due to popular demand from the audience members, they believed it would give the other’s a better chance at beating the pink haired champion. They were wrong, all it did was aid  _ The Blade  _ in his massacres. 

The masked man,  _ Dream _ , would arrive only two weeks later, causing quite the fuss as he was dragged down the seemingly never ending halls. When the people around him caught wind of the noise, they raised their sore heads, which had been the target of the pink haired man sitting calmly at his table, not even following the rest of the group in their curiosity. 

The room, minus the red eyed man, surveyed the new competitior standing in the arched entrance. Tall, lean, dirty blond hair atop a white mask with a crudely drawn smiley face. An air of confidence surrounded him, rivaling the arrogant men surveying his every move, trying to determine if he was a worthy opponent or not. No bets were placed, those were outlawed after men went hungry due to their latest bet on the pink haired champion. 

The man was brought to the only open seat, the one at the same table as  _ The Blade _ . A few people close to him cringed in sympathy, the masked man clearly not noticing, or not caring about, the distance everybody put between themselves and the pink haired man. He watched as the noble man raised his head at the interruption, his eyes meeting the cold ceramic of the mask. His face showed no emotion, it hasn’t since the day he arrived, blankly scrutinizing the new arrival in front of him. He looked back at his meal, the smiley faced man opting to pick at his own food. The people in the room slowly went back to what they were doing, not intimidated by the new arrival.  _ Oh, how they should have been. _

Whenever  _ Dream  _ entered the stadium, his shoulders lax and walk confident, the audience perked up at the new arrival. He would be going up against  _ Ravager,  _ who was not known to go easy, his skill level close to that of  _ The Blade _ . Their fellow competitors watched through thick bars separating them from the battlefield, many with faces of begrudged acceptance that they were going to have to watch new blood splatter the hard ground. 

What none of them expected, however, was for the masked man to completely  _ wreck  _ the burly man. His lean body dodging blows like they were nothing, delivering swift attacks from multiple different angles in quick succession. The audience certainly didn't expect to watch one of their favorite competitors hit the ground with a thud, the dirty blond standing over him holding a bloodied axe. 

He had the pleasure of standing next to  _ The Blade  _ himself, having the satisfaction of watching the smallest hint of emotion cross the usually stoic face. He watched as crimson eyes narrowed, his face swiftly morphing into one of surprise when the masked man stood victoriously. He watched as the man’s face changed into a contemplative one, respect slightly shining through. When he was caught staring, he quickly looked forward, watching as the broad body was taken out of the arena. 

He watched as the relationship between the two top competitors shifted, becoming one of mutual understanding and respect. Breakfasts were filled with the masked man rambling about fighting strategies, while the pink haired man simply sat in apparent disinterest. He knew better, though, he could see the intrigue in the crimson eyes.

He knows they became fond of each other. He doesn’t know how, nor when, it happened. All he knows is that he can hear their whispers at night, his cot separating their’s from the rest of the barracks. The loud snoring of  _ Thunder  _ next to him effectively blocking any prying ears, except for his, which were only a few feet away from their slightly too close cots. 

_ “You did amazing today.” _

_ “Love, you deserve better than this.” _

_ “We’ll get out of here. Together.” _

_ “I’ll protect you.” _

They were careful not to make it too obvious. They were both smart, knowing it would mean immediate death if they were caught feeling any emotion other than bloodlust. He could still see it in everything they do. The longing gazes shared when nobody else was looking, the brush of fingertips when exchanging pieces of bread, the slightly too enthusiastic congratulations whenever the other wins a fight. No matter how obvious it is to him, he keeps silent, knowing that developing feelings besides anger while being forced in the arena is more than many will ever experience.

They would have to put their feelings aside when the duel was introduced. The King was going to make an appearance at the next competition, and the organizers were eager to please the man. What better way to do that than putting the two best fighters against each other.  _ To put two lovers against each other.  _

There wasn’t any way they could say no, resistance was met with death in the arena. The days leading up to the King’s arrival were tense, competitors watching the two men’s every move, searching for a sign of nervousness from either of them. They gave no satisfaction, their faces blank, even if their whispers at night were oozing with reassurances. 

The morning of the duel was tense. Everybody in the stadium knew how this would end, one dead on the ground while the other was crowned victorious; the King wouldn’t accept anything less. The fear in the cafeteria was heavy, nearly suffocating everybody in its wake. He watched as the two shared a barely noticeable touch as they were dragged away to their opposing sides, a slight brush of fingers portraying everything they needed the other to know. 

He watched with the others as the two geared up on their respective stations, both armed with swords, shields, crossbows, and surprisingly, fishing rods. They both loaded their bows before the duel started, preparing to start the battle whenever the command came in from The King above. A clap was sounded through the stadium, everybody waiting with bated breath, before the two stalked closer to each other.

The duel was tense, full of alternating leadings. One minute  _ The Blade  _ would be attacking the masked man, the next  _ Dream  _ would be delivering fiery blows. The fight seemed to last for an eternity before everything slowed to a standstill. After delivering a ruthless blow, a sickening  _ crack  _ sounded throughout the arena, two halves of a porcelain mask falling beside the blond who was laying on the ground.

He watched as the man on the ground clutched his face, seemingly abandoning the fight altogether. The man was in perfect position for  _ The Blade  _ to deliver the final blow, The King sitting on the edge of his seat in preparation. He could see the apprehension in the crimson eyes, the unwillingness to kill a man who’s already down. He saw the man’s face harden, closing his eyes to avoid seeing the blood spill, before he heard the familiar  _ thwip _ of a crossbow firing. 

The entire arena was silent, and he opened his eyes, expecting to be met with a dead unmasked man, but instead catching sight of The King. The King clutching his shoulder in pain, onlookers gasping at the arrow embedded in the man’s flesh. He redirected his eyes to the two fighters, noticing  _ The Blade  _ swiftly offering his cape to the man on the ground, who used it to hide his face from the audience members, who were entirely focused on the honored guest.  _ The honored guest who just let out the loudest scream he’s ever heard. _

He was caught between watching the councilmen trying to stop the bleeding, and following the two gladiators as they made their way to the large doors separating the two from freedom, the cape still covering  _ Dream _ ’s face. He watched as they swiftly took out the guards, who were too focused on The King writhing in pain on his throne. 

By the time The King was taken to the medical bay, by the time his fellow competitors noticed the missing champions, by the time the audience members noticed the fight had completely stopped, the two were long gone. He felt a small smile tug at his face, quite possibly the first one in months.  _ They made it. They got out.  _

He then noticed that the guards at the now open doors were still down,  _ there was still a way out.  _ He quickly gathered the attention of his previous enemies, pointing towards the gaping door. The King never got to witness the entirety of the gladiators working together to escape, in fact, he never got to see another day. The ex-gladiators separated at the open doors, smiles covering their faces, sprinting in different directions. He’s never felt happier.

-

And years later, when the duels were simply a memory, when he became a full time merchant, he traveled back to the arena to see what had become of it. He was met with it being transformed into a market, the new king supposedly surveying the operation. He caught sight of the new king, who had bright pink hair and crimson eyes, standing next to a familiar blond man, smiles on both of their faces. He felt his grin grow,  _ they did it.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that :))
> 
> I really enjoy writing outsider povs, so I may write more like this


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